Cryptomnesia
by The Fallen Angel Of Pain
Summary: AU When the Guardians came to Earth, they were reborn and raised by a familar spirit. Thousand years later, and years after Pitch's disappearance, balance threatens to tip over to the bad side and the Guardians stand to face the threat of World's End, and Jack battles the truth Man in Moon hid from the Guardians.
1. Questions

**And the adventure, whose ending is only known to me, has begun ^_^**

Pairing: N/A (Gen)  
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Adventure  
Rating: K+ (depressing themes, no smut/direct cursing)  
Word Count: 4,239

Chapter 1 - Questions

''Anyway, it doesn't matter how much, how often, or how closely you keep an eye on things because you can't control it. Sometimes things and people just go. Just like that.''

* * *

''North?''

The Santa Clause mumbled something beneath his breath, not taking his eyes off his newest invention, which he was making as carefully as he would handle brittle glass. The ice in front of him, in fact, might as well be glass, and the delicate shape resembed a fruit cake. Next to it, its brothers and sisters sat, gently placed on a silver plate, each a different size and with tiny jewels differing in color. The fruit cakes looked as if they were sprinkled with the jewels, glinting in the white shine coming from the window of his office.

The Russian tapped his foot against the chair he was sitting on and addressed the frost spirit. ''Yes, Jack?''

North continued to softly hit the rough patch of ice into shape, the sound small and not unlike the sound wind chimes made in a slight breeze. The frost spirit at first didn't answer, but after North quirked an eyebrow, his eyes never leaving his invention, Jack spoke. ''How did you come to be?''

North startled so badly that his hammer went berserk beneath his hand and went into a different direction, cutting off one raised corner of the ice fruit cake. The Guardian of Wonder frowned at his mistake, shaking his head at his jumpiness. After a moment, he took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, gazing at Jack, whose eyes were slightly wider in surprise. The Guardian of Wonder kept his hands at his desk, then smiled.

''Why do you ask, Jack?'' he camly questioned, without a hint of mocking in his voice.

''Oh, it's just-'' Jack started, but then stopped.

Why did he ask in the first place? Now that he thought about it, Jack had asked the question without thinking. He just thought it another common question to ask any spirit, really, but why now? Why did he want to know where North had come from? Was it maybe... Was it maybe perhaps that he wanted to know how North had died? Or Tooth or Bunny, or even Sandy? But if North told him his story, he would ask the winter spirit his own.

And Jack wasn't ready to tell him how he had died.

''Oh, nothing, nevermind,'' Jack said, an easy chuckle escaping him, his turmoil forgotten in the split second, ''What are you making there?''

North narrowed his eyes, and was about to speak out again, when there was a loud, crashing noise just outside his office.

''Chto teper'!?'' North loudly exclaimed in Russian and got out of his chair. He carefully manevoured around his desk, and walked past Jack. He briefly addressed him. ''Must be broken toys. I'll be right back, you don't break anything here.''

Before Jack could retort, North was already out of the room, and he could hear him yelling more in Russian outside, and the jingles of elves and grumbles of the Yeti. Left alone, the Guardian of Fun slumped and put his fists into his pockets, his staff in the safe confines between his side and elbow. But his contemplative demeanor changed at the sight of the empty room.

Jack smiled mischeviously, fun twinkling in his eyes; he never actually got to explore North's office. He had only seen it once, and back then, North was pointing a finger in his face and asking what his center was.

Careful not to lead trails of frost patterns, Jack hopped along the many shelves lining the wall, swiftly turning around and making a twirl, catching sight of the doused fire. Late June had showed itself as wonderfully warm, hot and moist to the point where the fires ceased to happen around Europe. And there were a lot of fires, while the humans scrambled in front of televisions and screamed on pictures of newspapers about 'Gobal Warming' and 'future generations'. Jack had tried to stop a few fires himself, but there was just so much a single spirit of winter could do.

Jack stopped walking, his thoughts halting to the sight of the candles in the walls. Checking them for no more than second or two, he turned toward the desk. But not before freezing over a few of them, making them fall to the floor and shatter. He grimaced at the mess. He wasn't intending it, but alas, the candles lay motionless and in dozens of pieces on the floor.

''No matter,'' Jack muttered, staring at the floor in disdain. He would clean it up later.

He turned back toward the desk.

Despite himself, he couldn't help but to run his fingers over the cherry tree, feeling the dents and bumps worn by time and constant use. How many inventions did cross over this very desk? How many times was this desk touched and by how many people?

Jack couldn't help himself but to imagine North having friends over, friends which would admire his work and widen their eyes at the sheer wonder filling North's home. But then again, North never mentioned any spirits, let alone friends that come over for a cup of warm cocoa. As a matter of fact, Jack hadn't seen a single spirit associate with Guardians in his short three years of Guardianship. Not even friends of Tooth, who, Jack assumed, everyone would like once they met her.

Jack halted to a stop in surprise, his hand freezing where it lay.

He turned his blue eyes to the desk, and stared at the specific spot his hand chose to run over. It looked like any normal patch of the desk, brown and new-looking, yet with ridges, signifying its old age. The entire desk was a darkish light brown color, just like the cherry tree, but this one spot - it was an appsolute light brown, as if someone kept smoothing their palm over the space for the course of many years.

Curious, Jack leaned on his palm, the other hand clutching his staff. The wood gave a high creak, and the frost spirit grimaced, immediately looking to the door to see if anyone had heard. But another loud bang from the other side of the door, like Coincidence was playing and wanted to inform Jack specifically that no one noticed, made Jack sure that North wasn't coming in a few more minutes.

Jack pressed the palm of his left hand into the surface harder; although it didn't creak again, it also didn't give away. Honestly, Jack didn't know what he was expecting to happen. For some secret door to be opened in front of him, where the fire place was? Or maybe the ceiling would open up in a secret escape path?

Nonetheless, moving his cold hand away and approaching the desk so that his hips touched the corner, he pressed both his hands into the small, circular spot, one of which was holding his staff.

And the spot moved.

Jack jumped back in surprise, almost tripping over his feet and hitting the windows behind him. He watched in mild apprehension and fascination as the spot went deeper into the desk, lowering and lowering. No sooner did it stop than the moving slate went to the right and revealed a secret space.

Jack could only stare, both hands now clutching the staff.

He noticed at that moment that his staff was... _glowing_?

The winter spirit kept his gaze on the staff, whose light blue light shone from beneath the gnarled wood, bounded and controlled. It soon stopped, but by that time, Jack had already approached the desk, albeit gingerly. He glanced once at his staff and back at the space, which Jack could now tell boasted a clutter of indistinguishable things. It was too dark to tell what it held.

Jack bit his lip, and glanced worriedly at the door. North could come in at any moment, and see him snooping around. What if he wasn't supposed to see whatever it was in the hidden space? What if North accused him of some heinous crime of stealing?

But then why did his staff help him open it then? The winter sprite was too curious for his own good.

 _It's just North,_ Jack thought, putting his hand into the space, _It's not like I'm stealing anything. I'm just looking around. North would allow._

His fingers grazed against something smooth, and Jack pulled it out and dangled it in front of him.

It was a small picture, framed, and looked well-drawn. In the middle was a little girl Jack didn't know, with auburn hair and a lovely face. She was smiling and holding a book, opened and toward him. If Jack looked closer, he could see the two pages held two pictures, of which one represented... something dark, and the other held three people Jack could only assume were Tooth, Bunny and North. The little girl, Jack noted, had beautiful grey eyes.

He smiled, lowering the drawing on the space next to the hole, and fished around for something else.

He pulled out a piece of paper, and was startled to see the neatly written letter of sorts. He caught sight of the first words at the top.

 _Dear North,_

But Jack couldn't, _wouldn't_ read it. It was private and he was intruding already as it was because of his stupid curiosity. He put the paper, which felt older than him, yellowed and crinkled in many places, on top of the frame. None the less, his eyes unintentionally caught sight of the sender.

 _Ombric_

He dug around, feeling metal and cold, giggling occasionally at how comic the scene would look to someone else, and at some point he thought he touched something slimy and gross. But right next to that, he felt his fingers twitch against a hard material. Contemplating for a moment whether he should take it out or not, he grasped it almost subconsciously and took it. It was going to be the last thing he touched in that secret place, lest North came back and saw him. And of course, he was going to admit snooping around a bit, he wasn't a liar.

His eyebrows lifted in confusion.

It was a... gauntlet? Short enough to only cover some of the elbow, it was purely made of gold, with a silver star in the middle. _North star_ , Jack thought nonchalantly. It looked a bit childish, because of its small size which made it resemble a longer bracelet and not a gauntlet, but Jack felt something twitch inside of him when he looked at it. It was old, he could somehow tell. And he could also tell it hadn't been touched in a long, long time. There was a thick coat of dust over it, which Jack gently wiped away, revealing that the gold resembled dream sand in texture. Grainy and rough, but Jack imagined it wouldn't bother anyone if someone were to put it on.

There was a noise outside the door, and Jack almost dropped the gauntlet to the floor, were he not clutching it like a lifeline. He quickly shoved the frame and letter back inside the secret place, flinching a little when he heard the paper crinkle. He backed away, eying the door in unresonable fear. But the secret place didn't cover itself again.

Jack glanced to his staff just as soon as he heard boots clicking against the floor. He hit the dark hole in the desk, a bit too hard than he expected, and much to his relieved heart, the top of the desk moved out from its hiding, and raised itself.

No sooner did it click into place than North burst in through the office door.

''Silly elves,'' he mumbled, then stopped himself in the middle of the room. Jack didn't meet his gaze, because his horrified eyes were stuck on the gauntlet in his right hand.

He just took something from North. And North saw it.

Jack raised his sorry eyes to North, excuses and apologies at the tip of his tongue, mouth opening to portray them, but North was already talking.

''Jack, Jack,'' North chuckled out, stomping over to the broken candles, ''What do you have against my candles? You always break them, naughty child.''

Out of pure instict, and nothing more, Jack shoved the gauntlet into the pocket of his hoodie, heart hammering against his chest.

''Sorry, North,'' Jack said, unusually somber. North glanced up from his crouch next to the pink candles, his favorites, and chuckled again.

''Don't be so serious, Jack,'' North said, and got up, approaching the desk, ''All is fine.''

For one horrible, horrible moment, Jack thought North was going to put his hand on the same spot he had put, and simply _know_ he had tinkered with it.

But the Russian merely pulled out his chair and sat on it, touching his completed ice fruitcakes and the one he had damaged.

''No sleeping tonight, I guess,'' he rumbled with a jolly chuckle, fingering his white beard and looking to Jack, who stood next to the candles and seemed to stare at the ice sculptures North had made. ''Es something wrong, Jack?''

Jack looked up with wide eyes, before he composed himself and plastered on a joking smile. ''Oh, nothing, nothing.'' He waved North off, another smile overleaping the first one. The Santa stared at Jack for a few moments more, eyebrows knitted in confusion, before he blinked and shook his head.

''Your question, Jack, da?'' he said, and leaned against his chair, hands folded over his belly and his eyes staring intently at Jack. Patiently, he waited.

Jack was caught completely unprepared, and stuttered, ''N-n-no. Some other time. I need to go... visit Jamie.'' Jack grinned widely, and then lowered his head as his expression bordered on funny and serious. ''I promised him.''

Although North slightly nodded, face features serious, before he said anything else on the subject, Jack was already opening the window, and the sound of rushing wind and biting cold drowned out North's statement, which got lost in thin air.

Cutting swiftly though air, Jack's expression was worriesome, so that even the Wind questioned him.

Jack gave no answer, and instead thought back, way back to where he had seen last seen such a gauntlet. Identical almost. His thoughts gave him no rest, and he wondered even further back to the statement that had plagued him ever since Tooth last said it.

 _We were all someone before we were chosen._

 _North, how did you die?_

* * *

Before he went to Jamie, however, he somehow ended up at Tooth's Palace.

He didn't know exactly how, or more importantly why, but it felt right to visit her. Maybe it was because he found comfort in her motherly personality, or because that place was the place where he found out he was someone before he was Jack Frost, but he felt safe and secure under the myriad of colors and patterns. The buzzing of small fairies was a comfort of its own, and as Jack circulared the pillars, he heard Tooth's voice loud and clear.

''Sector P2, Colorado! That third house on left by Witcham Street! Bosnia and Herzegowina at Ilidža!''

Jack took a moment to listen to Tooth give out her orders, the sense of productivity reaching him. He stood on the pillar nearest to her, and watched her buzz to and fro, never stopping her frantic talk.

It took her full five minutes to notice him, and when she did, she squeaked indignantly. ''Jack!''

She flew down from her pink and golden pillar, coming up to Jack and leaving a few dazzled fairies behind. She smiled widely, but her face showed exhaustion and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. Although spirits didn't need to sleep, they too could get exhausted, and it was easily noticeable on Tooth's usually lively face.

''Tooth, you alright?'' Jack asked with a chuckle, but there was an undertone of concern to it as he twirled his staff in his left hand, his right one limp and at his side.

Tooth's grin fell away, and she gave him a small, but sincere smile. ''Could be better,'' she said, turning to gesture to her palace, to the constant buzz and noise of it. ''Only a week or two and things will be back just as they were before the war.''

Jack nodded, looking at the powerful scenery, colors bursting. He turned to her when she said, ''Even better than before.''

''Good. That's good,'' Jack said, and continued looking at his surroundings. Tooth noticed.

''Are _you_ alright, Jack?'' she asked. Her wings beat consistently behind her as she clasped her hands at her front. Jack turned to look at her, a bit surprised. And then the eager question he wanted to ask nagged at him.

Of all Guardians, he had a feeling that perhaps Tooth would be the least prying of his own past. ''How did you came to be?''

The reaction was similar to North's, but unlike him Tooth didn't have a hammer with which she could make a mistake and show to Jack how startled she was. Nevertheless, Tooth's face went slack in surprise, and she lowered down to the ground next to Jack, her wings stopping their beat. Concerned, Jack was about to ask her if she was okay, but she spoke. Her surprise had disappeared, and instead of it, sorrow placed herself on her expression as she looked at anywhere but Jack.

''Just like any other new spirit, Jack. I was raised, from scratch, by an older spirit after being chosen,'' she said, and Jack noted the the small, sad voice she was using.

''This spirit...'' Jack started, ignoring the next nagging question of 'And what were you before you were chosen?' and the few more at her confusing statement. Tooth cut him off before he said anything else, shaking her head.

''Dead... Actually I don't know,'' she said, her voice no longer sad but normal, like she was saying facts. She shrugged and closed her eyes, ''I don't remember him much. Don't even know who he was.''

She seemed to return to her usual self, normal albeit Jack noted the hint of dullness in her eyes that was not from being tired.

''You don't remember anything of him?'' Jack asked, disbelieving. Tooth rose into air again, her wings making the only noise in their closeness. She seemed to ponder on the question, and then she answered.

''I still have the gauntlet he gave me. But I gave it to North, in exchange for Bunny's gift,'' she said and hurried away. Jack stood shocked for a moment, then moved to fly off after her, feet somewhat heavy and hard to move. Yet she was back before he so much as approached the end of the platform. In her small, petite hand, she held out a flowery ring.

It was just like any other ring, the light green emerald reflecting light and standing out from the much softer colors of small, diamond-like flowers that adorned the sides of the ring. But when Tooth offered Jack to hold it, and Jack took a closer look, he saw something in the emerald. He gingerly took it from Tooth and inspected it.

Every time he twisted the ring, looking at the emerald, he saw a different picture in it. First was of a small, grey bunny, childishly drawn. Then two of the Sentinel Eggs, and in the middle was a golden flower. Then a white bird, beneath which were a cluster of colorful eggs. And then a lake, on which floated a basket of trinkets resembling chocolate.

It seemed that no matter how many times he turned the ring and stared into the emerald, the pictures and images shown inside the tiny rock changed over and over. A countless amount of symbols and memories. A precious gift... from who?

''This was Bunny's?'' Jack asked, looking up at Tooth and shaking the ring a bit. Tooth nodded.

''After our caretaker died, we exchanged gifts that we had in memory of him. What was left, that is,'' she explained, smiling, ''North got my golden gauntlet. I got Bunny's ring. And Bunny got North's sword handle.''

Jack nodded, staring intently at the ring. He frowned. ''But how did he die?''

And Tooth's eyes glazed over with an unreadable emotion. She closed her eyes again, and sighed. ''He was killed.''

Jack's eyes widened in surprise, and he spoke without thinking. ''By who?''

Tooth opened her eyes and instead of hatred, her eyes held simple acceptance. ''Our greatest enemy, Jack.''

 _Pitch_ , Jack thought, and didn't say the name out loud, lest he wanted to break the acceptance in Tooth's eyes. He shoudn't be feeling so surprised, but the shock wouldn't leave his body as he stared at the bird woman. He expected a lot from Pitch, from scaring little children to bringing misfortune to adults, but all those things were almost childish, silly.

He never knew the Boogeyman could be capable of murder.

And as he gazed into Tooth's tired and dull eyes, the gauntlet safely hid in the pocket of his hoodie, it feeling like it was burning and warning him that he should return it to North, that it was too precious a memory for Jack to even consider touching it, he thought of the strange texture and the northern star in the middle. He had seen it before, he really did recall, if it was possible.

''Dwelling on the past is futile,'' Tooth said and shrugged again, ''You accept it and learn, and then you don't look back.''

''But what if you want to?'' Jack asked, holding the ring and looking at her in curiostiy. He didn't ask that question for her - he was wondering about himself.

''You can't,'' Tooth stated and snorted, '' _All that live must die, passing through nature to eternity._ Ever read William Shakespeare, Jack?''

Jack smiled and nodded, mouth thinning and his clutch on the ring increasing. '' _If music be the food of love, play on._ ''

Tooth smiled back and held out a hand; Jack put the ring on the smooth palm and twirled his staff. Tooth's mouth quirked up at the corners, just the slightest and barely noticeable, like she was remembering a fond memory.

'' _Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by._ ''

* * *

It didn't take him long to find Jamie. He and his friends were chilling by the local pool, sitting at the edge and telling each other something. Well, his friends, excluding Cupcake and Pippa, who for some reason refused to come, despite the horribly hot weather.

''Hey, kiddo,'' Jack laughed out, but Jamie and his friends felt him much before they saw him; the cold gust of wind blew and some people stopped talking and a few stopped swimming to relish in the sudden cold breeze that swept over the place.

But the commotion started again, and cheers and laughs and squeals of children and the soft murmuring and gossiping of grownups started back up again. Jamie's mother was nearby, putting sunscream on herself, as it was her turn to take the children to the pool and watch over them.

''What are you doing here!?'' Caleb squeaked out, and Claude nudged him roughly, warning him that no one here could see Jack. No one wanted to get the reputation of ' _that_ kid'.

''Oh, just came by,'' Jack said and smiled, perching himself on the corner of the pool, careful to look around if anyone was passing them. But his friends had picked a wonderful spot, where the pool was shallower, and thus less crowded. It didn't suit the four of them, secretly sans Monty who eyed the water in wariness. But Jamie's mother warned them not to go any further than the supposed 'kitty' pool.

''Any new adventures?'' Claude asked, and elbowed his younger brother with a cheeky smile.

Jack chuckled, then looked to Jamie. ''I don't know. I was hoping you tell me.''

Jamie cocked an eyebrow, confused, but still smiling. Though before he could question his immortal friend, Jack added, ''I'll see you guys later. Call me when you're done with the pool so I can show you what real fun looks like.''

With a playful wink and to the sound of children's laugh, Jack caught a wind current and rode it all the way to his lake. There, when he landed and stood still, he contemplated the golden gauntlet.

He could swear, long before he met the Guardians, long before he came into any sort of contact with any other spirit - he saw the Boogeyman.

And the Boogeyman was wearing this gauntlet.


	2. Part One: We Are Guardians

Pairing: N/A (Gen)  
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Adventure  
Rating: K+ (depressing themes, no smut/direct cursing)  
Word Count: 4,197

Chapter 2 - Part One: We Are Guardians

''They are now dead, they live no more; their spirits do not rise. You punished them and brought them to ruin; you wiped out all memory of them.''

* * *

''Oi, mate!'' Bunny shouted, and North looked away from the Globe at him. He gave a cheery laugh, and released the railing in favor of leaning against it, looking at the Easter Bunny.

''Yes, Bunny?'' he said, the smile plastered on his face unwavering. It was a rare occasion for the Guardian of Hope to drop by, to his home in summer. What with all the complaining about the snow and cold, North thought Bunny would only visit him if the world was in danger or if he was hosting a party and April Fools was invited. The Santa Clause supressed a chuckle - a few decades ago, Bunny had gotten so drunk, he stumbled into April and told her she bloomed more beautifuly than any other flower in his garden.

Needless to say, the Easter Bunny didn't come out of his Warren for a couple of years until the rumors subsided.

But Bunny looked dead serious now, and as he spoke, North noted a hint of worry in his voice. ''I was talking ta' a few spirits...''

''Which?'' North asked, slightly pushing himself away from the railing and standing still.

It was in the dead of night. There were no elves, nor yeti, nor toys flying about; not a single noise or sound echoed throughout the serenely empty Workshop. North himself had been ready to take a nap, but for some reason couldn't sleep. He might have been overthinking about Jack's question, and kept remembering the winter spirit's surprise when he found out that he was someone before he was chosen. The tone of his voice, the disbelief it held, kept North awake a few nights after the war they had with the Boogeyman. He figured it was guilt, but also that there was nothing he could do about it - until Jack himself decided he was ready to talk about his past.

''Some dark spirits,'' Bunny murmured, and the Guardian of Wonder couldn't help but to notice the disdain in which he said the word 'dark'. The spirit of hope looked up to him. ''They were talking 'bout Pitch.''

And just like that, the serenity in the room vanished, and gave way to eerie. The shadows seemed to prolong, as if the mere mentioning of the dark spirit made them bigger, scarier, more dangerous. The lights on the Globe seemed to flicker, as if personally remembering the self-proclaimed Nightmare King.

North merely sighed, and lowered his head, closing his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

''What did they talk about?'' he asked, lifting his gaze back up toward Bunny and crossing his tattoed arms over his chest. If Bunny was mentioning it, considering his hatred to Pitch, it must be important.

Bunny was silent for a moment, ears twitching ever so slightly. It took a few moments for him to respond, and when he did, the silence in the room was prepared for any sentence to sound dramatic after such a long pause.

''They think he's dead.''

North didn't react at first, and then his white eyebrows rose in confusion. ''Excuse me?''

Bunny sighed, getting down on all fours and hopping to the railing, where he got up and leaned against it and stared toward the Globe in worry. ''They say they haven't seen 'im in a few years. Ever since that hole closed. I went ta' check up on it, ta' make sure... It was still closed. I think the guy's dead.''

North let the information sink in, but the fact was laughable. Spirits did not die easily, and when they did, the reasons were great and very much 'possible'. Like Samhain, or that spirit of war, yet they died for good reasons, natural reasons. Spirits could die in a way that was almost natural, if destiny chose them to die. But getting killed? It was absurd.

''We don't know that, Bunny,'' North stated, gesturing with his right hand, then using it to smooth down his beard.

Bunny snorted. ''Dead or not, we have to make sure. If he ain't dead, we can easily avoid Baelana's interrogation. You know how that nosy spirit of balance gets. On another hand, if he is dead...''

''We need to meet Baelana and choose a replacement,'' North concluded, rubbing his forehead in annoyance, and groaning in protest.

''I don't understand!'' Bunny suddenly spat out, turning to North, his green eyes dark with anger, ''Why the bloody hell do we need ta' replace him!? The bloke is good for nothing-''

''Baelana had said,'' North started, silencing the Pooka with his serious expression, ''that his kind of spirit needs an instant replacement. And if she says so, I believe her.''

Bunny snorted louder, pointing a sharp nail at North. ''She is just messing with us. I'm telling you - she says whatever she wants, whenever she wants and no one questions her because of her origin.''

''Bunny,'' North warned, looking around. ''Be careful how you speak... And it doesn't matter if Pitch is replaced. This new spirit could actually be better... Perhaps we could be friends.''

Bunny's ears flattened against his head, and North knew Bunny's answer long before Bunny said it.

''Spirits of fear,'' Bunny started, lowering his arms to his sides where his hands were clenched into fists, ''are foul creatures. I will not stand ta' be in the presence of any spirit of Pitch's kind.''

''Bunny,'' North sighed out, almost in actual pain, ''What happened with Pitch was so long ago, you need-''

But Bunny had already tapped his foot against the ground, and swiftly disappeared, leaving North to finish his sentence alone.

''You need to forgive and forget.''

The silence in the Workshop was neutral, neither comfortable nor eerie. After a few moments, the clicking of North's boots echoed throughout it. But even that sound disappeared, and the silence reigned, as if in mourning.

* * *

''North! North!'' Jack bellowed as loud as he could, and all but shoved away the walking Yeti carrying toys.

He looked around, frantic to find the Russian as fast as he could. The letter in his hand was crinkled, and Jack held onto it so tightly that if it were ordinary paper, it would no longer be readable. He peered over the railing, gazing down into lower levels. Santa wasn't in his office, and that left Jack, who knew little to nothing about the Workshop's interior despite wandering around it for three years, to look anywhere he could and hope the Guardian of Wonder simply popped into view.

''Damn it,'' he hissed, and leaned away, running a frustrated hand with the letter through his hair. He looked at it again, for the hundrendth time that morning, but alas, the letter didn't change and the golden letters on it were still the way they were.

 _To Guardians_

Below the golden letter that was written in one of the neatest handwriting he had seen in three centuries, was a scale. The small picture of the scale was golden and no bigger than his index finger; on its right side was a star and on the other was the moon, both in silver color standing above the golden plates, hovering and not touching them. He shivered. The letter itself was cold, but a cold he was not familar with, and no matter how much he held onto it, the cold oozed from every inch of it.

A terrible creature had chased him because of it.

It had been winged and mottled with the color of silver, golden and scarlet red. It had looked like it flew through massacre on its way to him, and it had startled him to his very bones when it screeched next to his ear while he was carelessly flying. He had tried to run from it out of pure instinct.

That had turned out to be a very bad idea - the creature had screeched again, the massive bird having rows of black needle-like teeth in its silver beak. It had flapped its mighty wings and caught up to him like he wasn't flying as fast as he could. It had grabbed him by the back of his hoodie and dived; more like _plunged_ to the ground too fast for Jack to react properly. And then it had stopped a mere inch from the ground, and released Jack from its silver claws. He had flopped onto the ground like a ragdoll, and gasped, turning over on his back and staring in disbelief at the bird.

And then, as if to purposefully startle Jack worse, it opened its beak and _spoke_.

''Jack Frost, the winter spirit and the Guardian of Fun,'' it had addressed him, its beak barely moving, its voice surprisingly humanly female and deep. It had then flapped its silver and golden wings, matted with scarlet red that looked like blood. A single letter had fallen out of the feathers, and the bird had all but growled lowly, ''Take it to the Guardians. Baelana sends her greetings.''

The bird had left without any further explanation.

A yeti came up to Jack, grumbling nonsense into the spirit's ear. Jack jumped, feeling uneasy that at any moment the bird would return, and snap him in halves in its long beak. Jack stood and stared at the yeti, Phil as Jack recalled. The furry creature waved its hands around, mumbling and growling.

It only took Jack a few seconds to understand what the grey yeti was saying. _North was with the reindeer in the barn,_ according to where Phil was pointing and what he was trying to portray with his hands.

''Thanks, Phil!'' he exclaimed and flew past him, making the yeti stumble a bit, and then shake his head at the fast winter sprite.

It took him less than half a minute to arrive at the barn, and see North patting the neck of a completely white reindeer. The frost sprite breathed out in a much needed relief, doubling over and breathing heavily, but not taking his eyes off North. The Russian turned to Jack in surprise.

''Jack, es something wrong?'' North asked, the white reindeer huffing out in annoyance that North stopped its patting.

Jack straightened, and walked over to North. His hand shot up not of his own accord, and the letter just stood between them for a few moments. Jack wanted to get rid of the letter. It felt like a curse, and that if he didn't pass it to North, he was going to be stuck with it till' the end of time. For one horrible second, he thought North was going to laugh and decline the letter in his hand.

But it was just a foolish thought; North reached out and curiosly took the letter. It felt like the weight of the world lifted off Jack's soulders, and the boy could finally breathe normally. He leaned against the low stall door, and gazed at the white reindeer, whose intelligent eye stared at him.

''Hey girl,'' Jack whispered, reaching out a hand and patting its white as snow neck. He faintly noted that her behind was the only one in color - it had black dots, like in a dalmatian dog, covering its top and ever so slightly. But it only reached to the half of her back, while all else was pure white. It was a strange breed, Jack concluded.

North spoke normally, without a hint of worry. ''Her name is Warda,'' he murmured, curiosity lacing his tone as he twisted the letter this way and that, not opening it, ''She's a gift from the spirit of naivety...''

''Why would she give you that?'' Jack asked in surprise. Red Riding Hood was never the one to give gifts unless for a specific reason.

North looked up at Jack from bellow his bushy eyebrows. He seemed to contemplate if he should tell their youngest member the reason, but then decided against it. ''Es not important,'' he rumbled and waved a hand dissmisively.

Jack stared at North in question, holding his hand on Warda. The reindeer snorted and pressed her snout into him, making him chuckle. ''Easy there, girl. Aren't you affectionate?''

The albino reindeer shook her head and lowered it as Jack continued patting it. The Guardian of Fun waited for North to open the letter and read it, his soul relieved that North didn't react as badly as the bird. It might not have been serious - some spirits simply felt mischievous and liked to give a scare for no apparent reason - but he couldn't help but to have a feeling that it was something bad. The feeling though might as well be his irrational fear.

''She doesn't usually send letters,'' North mumbled, one hand on his chin in thought and the other holding the letter at which he was intently staring at.

''Who?'' Jack asked, then snorted, ''Baelana?''

North's gaze came up to Jack's face in surprise. Seeing the winter's spirit questioning look, the Guardian of Wonder sighed and relaxed. He had to explain everything to the winter spirit, who was, much to North's horror a few years ago, almost completely oblivious of the way of spirit living. The boy had been isolated for so long, North wondered how he even knew who the Boogeyman was.

''Baelana is a powerful spirit,'' North explained with a low voice, waving an empty hand, ''Spirit of balance. She isn't bad, and she is. She is cruel and she is kind. She is everything, and nothing.''

Jack stared at North with expresionless eyes. North sighed.

''She's the spirit we answer to in case of misbalance, nothing more,'' he said, and looked back to the letter.

''Misbalance?'' Jack questioned, his hand still on Warda's neck.

''Yes,'' North murmured, and reached out a finger to open the letter. He then abruptly decided against it, and shoved the letter unceremoniously but with a wink at Jack into his pocket, ''We open it when our friends come visit. This is to every Guardian, not just you and me.''

A faint twitch in his chest notified Jack of the pride he still felt when North called him a Guardian, directly or indirectly, three years or three seconds.

* * *

''Finally, Tooth!'' North bellowed, waving his hands around, albeit he carefully clutched the mug in his right hand. The Tooth Fairy smiled at the Guardian of Wonder.

''Hey, North,'' she said, and buzzed around the space in front of the open Globe Room. Trying to look as nonchalant as possible, she stole a glance at the Globe. Although North seemed cheery enough, he could have might as well called them all for Pitch again. But she doubted Pitch could pull another stunt like he did with the Nightmare War. Not so soon.

Bunny and Sandy stood apart from each other, but both holding a mug of their own. Even Jack held one, and approached Tooth, who hovered above ground in front of the railing, gazing at her friends. He produced a mug seemingly out of nowhere, which looked like magic to the tired Guardian of Memories. She had barely found the time to come by on North's request. She was so busy.

She quietly thanked Jack, taking the mug when she came back to fly behind the railing, and brought the warm mug to her lips; it was hot cocoa.

''So now that we're all here,'' Bunny said, and looked to North, taking a small, tentative sip of his drink, ''Tell us the reason.''

A part of North thought Bunny had a suspicion the talk was going to be about Pitch and his replacement. He didn't blame his scalding look of warning, after all, they just talked yesterday about the spirit of fear. Nevertheless, this matter was a bit more serious.

''Baelana sent a letter,'' he said. Carefully and quickly, he scanned every Guardian's expression. All but Jack, they all held a look of surprise, and Bunny's ears flattened against his head.

''What does she want?'' he asked, taking another, even smaller sip of his cocoa. Sandy next to him, in front of the fireplace, held his mug to his chest, appetite suddenly lost.

''We're gonna find out,'' North announced, and produced the letter from his pocket, after fumbling in the already full pockets. When he took it out, the entire world seemed to lean forward to the letter, peering at it in curiosity. Tooth fled over to North and leaned over his shoulder, while Bunny and Sandy took a few steps to North and leaned as well. Jack merely watched off to the side.

''Her letter alright,'' Bunny mumbled, and took another small sip while the two of his friends leaned away a bit.

''I'll read it,'' North said. Jack was tempted for a moment to announce he was going to get the letter opener in North's office, but North merely pressed a finger to the middle of the letter, and it opened like a treasure chest. Or like a bird opened its wings.

When it did, the three Guardians surrounding North, leaned away a bit more. As if the letter suddenly released a cloud of poison. North took out the paper gingerly, letting the envelope fall to the ground. He fingered the perfectly uncrinkled paper in his hand, then gently unfolded it.

He started reading.

 _Guardians of the children of the world,_

 _I, the Balance Keeper, announce to you the duty of upholding the law of spirits. As you already know, Pitch Black, the Boogeyman, is either incapable of upholding his job or dead, and thus the duty of his job falls to you - as you are the reason of his absence. You are to right this world by choosing his replacement. Should you fail to do so, you will be held responsible for the misbalance that is soon to take over this world.  
_

And North finished. No 'signed' or 'love' or 'with respect' at the end of the letter. Though neither of them expected it, since it didn't even have a 'dear' at the beginning.

Silence reigned for but a few moments, shocked into freezing, before Bunny's outraged voice spoke out. ''I can't believe it!''

Jack and the rest looked to him. The Easter Bunny threw his mug in a fit of rage at the nearest wall. It didn't shatter, but the clanking distracted the Guardians as the spirit of hope snatched the letter from North's hands and tore at it.

Shocked, North didn't get the time to save the letter, now in dozens of tiny pieces on the floor. Bunny's mad eyes connected with his, and Tooth and Sandy sighed in exasperation, while Jack stared in a new shock at the Guardian.

''We ain't doing it!'' Bunny screeched indignantly, pointing a clawed hand at each of them in turn. ''This world doesn't need a damn fear spirit!''

''Bunny,'' Tooth scolded lightly, eyebrows knitting together in contemplation. ''If Baelana told us, it must be importa-''

''NO!'' Bunny screamed, and Jack took a slight step back in apprehension. But other thoughts of his swirled in his head like a tornado that had nowhere else to go.

 _Pitch is... Pitch is dead?_ his mind kept asking him, yet he couldn't give a decent answer due to his shock. The gauntlet still in his hoodie pocket burned against his hand, reminding him that he was supposed to return it, and tell North of the information about seeing the Boogeyman wearing it at some early point in his life.

He had thought maybe, just _maybe_ , he could make Pitch tell who the caretaker of the Guardians had been. Jack suspected it would take many years to get the spirit of fear to talk.

He just didn't know it would take him an eternity, now that Pitch is... gone?

 _No,_ Jack thought, shaking his head, _That doesn't sound right._

In Jack's mind, Pitch could never be dead. There will _always_ be fear, as the said spirit had once said.

''I refuse,'' Bunny whispered this time instead of screaming, but somehow it would have been infinitely better if he had screamed.

The Guardians stared at the spirit of hope with expresionless eyes. The Pooka sighed, almost like he was relaxing, but Jack knew better.

''Good luck,'' he said, and tapped his foot. The small hole opened and Bunny dived into it swiftly. It closed no sooner than a flower grew out of it. The silence the rabbit left was not shocked, nor uncomfortable. It was merely neutral.

North sighed and turned to his fellow friends. ''Looks like we will have to do this alone, da?''

Sandy and Tooth nodded, but Jack stared at the Russian still in shock.

''You knew Pitch was gone?'' he asked. Only then did the room fall into an uncomfortable silence, broken occasionally by the constant noise of toy-making in the background. Tooth stared at Jack with a questioning look.

''Not quite,'' she said and approached him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Jack got the sudden and unpleasant sense of deja vu, because he was reminded of the first time she put her hand like that. It was to tell him that he didn't know what the Guardians actually did. _Protect the children_ , as she had gestured to the Globe and told of the lights that represented the believers.

''We aren't quite as surprised as we are accepting,'' North said, and put a hand to his chin, his thumb finger glinting a bit. Sandy nodded next to him, albeit his expression was of confusion and mild surprise.

''But... _how_?'' Jack accentuated the question. He had never in his entire, albeit short, life heard of a spirit dying.

Tooth and North sighed simultaneously, and if Sandy could make noise, Jack would've probably heard him sighing as well.

''Es not impossible,'' North explained, waving a hand and approaching the railing. He pressed his hands into it and stared at the lights while Tooth squeezed Jack's shoulder reassuringly. ''We are not indestructible. We are born, we live, and it is only proper we die.''

''But why?'' Jack reformulated his question, heart twitching painfully in his chest. He had only seen the Boogeyman a few years ago, how could such a powerful entity be just _gone_.

His look of utter confusion and a slight sadness made North speak again as the Russian leaned his back into the railing and held the cold metal in his clutches. ''Death needs no reason.''

But it wasn't what Jack wanted to hear. It wasn't what Jack expected. Pitch simply could not be dead - the spirit of fear, infinitely older than him, possibly older than the Guardians, could not have vanished into thin air just like that. Like a child's memory, plucked out of the child and the child could no longer tell apart what he was supposed to remember and what he was supposed to forget.

Pitch was not a child's memory. He was a _person_. He lived, he breathed, he was probably born and chosen just as the Guardians had been. He hurt, he smiled, he laughed and he possibly cried. In Jack's mind, the sentence 'Pitch is gone' did not take root, and would probably never take root. Not for as long as the memory back in Antartica remained. He thought of Pitch as alive, and would never turn his back, no matter how many times Pitch had already stabbed it.

It was a childish promise he had made to himself - that after everything settled, he was going to find Pitch and change him. Whether the Boogeyman wanted change or not. Jack knew the pain of isolation for far too long, and even to this day, when he was a happy Guardian, the sense of loneliness haunted him like a stubborn ghost of the past which simply refused to leave.

''Replacement?'' Jack asked carefully, the idea of replacing the Boogeyman like a broken toy outrageous in his mind.

''Yes, Jack,'' North said and smiled, ''The circle of life moves, and death is a mere trinket on it.''

''How?'' Jack whispered, shaking his head, still disbelieving of the Guardian's nonchalance. He hid his unshed tears by turning to look at a nearest table of toys, refusing to admit he was feeling something. He wasn't sad, and Pitch wasn't gone. ''How do you replace someone like Pitch?''

North and Tooth exchanged glances, while Sandy bowed down his head with a dissatisfied expression. North was the only one to speak.

''First you find the body of the fallen spirit.''


	3. Part Two: We Are Guardians

**I listened to ''Cold'' by Jorge Méndez while I wrote this. It fit the context :)  
**

Pairing: N/A (Gen)  
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Adventure  
Rating: K+ (depressing themes, no smut/direct cursing)  
Word Count: 4,286

Chapter 3 - Part Two: We Are Guardians (And We Are Alone)

''War does not determine who is right - only who is left.''

* * *

 _This would have been a lot easier if Bunny had come along_ , Jack thought.

But it was too late already, and North was taking out a snow globe, his other hand clutching a sword. The unnecessary other sword stood tucked away on his hip, and Jack was idly reminded of Pitch. _Keep an extra just in case the first one breaks_.

It was unfair, and Jack really, _really_ didn't want to go down into the lair, where as North had put it, Pitch lay. He was either buried beneath piles and piles of dirt, like something useless, something that wasn't even worth as trash, or he was laying face down on the stone cold floor and not breathing.

Jack honestly couldn't tell which thought frightened him more, or made his heart skip beats upon beats. He felt useless. He felt like a child; he just wanted to run away and let the grownups deal with the consequences of his actions.

But it wasn't only his actions that caused this.

But Pitch wasn't gone, Jack insisted. His mind still refused to accept it. No matter how hard he pushed, the seed of information about Pitch's death would not, _could_ not root itself and grow into a memory. A memory of a spirit who nearly wiped them out, and was now dead because of it. There was some justice to it, but definitely not complete justice. While Pitch had tried to kill the Guardians, he still failed, and got himself killed instead. It was the Guardians who breathed air, and he, as North had put it, did not.

The word 'dead' and 'killed' did not register in Jack's mind as actual words that had a meaning to them. And yet, when Tooth had told him that Pitch killed their caretaker, he had accepted it as a mere fact, almost too easily, and stored it away as one would store away pilfered money. Into a piggy bank and to be forgotten until it was needed.

''Inside Pitch's lair,'' North whispered, and threw the snow globe just as any other time. Only that time was a bit different to Jack, because he felt his heart sink to his heels as the iridiscent ball traveled through air, and broke into dozens of pieces that now resembled glitter. The portal swirled and just barely revealed a dark surrounding inside it.

Sandy clutched freshly made dream sand whips, and Tooth's knuckles almost went white with her hold on her - Jack was shocked to find out - rapiers. Tooth never struck him as someone who used weapons. Then again, Tooth never struck him as a person who would punch someone and knock out their tooth. He still remembered how startled he had been when she did that, he barely pried his eyes off her and back to the defeated Boogeyman. At that moment, he thought it was deserving; he had stolen all her fairies and nearly wiped them out. Now, though, thinking how Pitch was dead _and_ missing a tooth, was too much. Too much for the strange emotion gripping his heart.

He was yet to name the emotion, but he knew it wasn't sorrow. He felt sorrow before, and sadness, enough to tell the emotion was similar to the two different types of the feeling, but not them. Definitely not them.

''Let's go,'' North ordered quietly, and moved to the portal. Sandy and Tooth only hesitated for a moment, preparing themselves mentally, because physically they were readier than ever, then both of them entered the portal at the same time. Jack himself lingered a few moments, and rubbed his chest, the feeling almost touchable.

The walk through the portal was barely noticeable, and before he knew it, he stood in front of a familar sight.

The iron Globe glowing magnificently in the darkness looked almost like an angel, and if Jack listened carefully, he could swear he heard music somewhere. But it were probably just echoes from his past, trying to ease the tension he had by replaying what he knew of music. Music was a strange thing; it could move someone, make happy, make contemplative. One of the spirits of music, however, was a total skank. Jack didn't like her one bit.

''Spread out.'' He heard North giving out quiet orders, and Jack's hold on the staff increased.

 _Where are you?_

The Globe's lights were flickering in might, like they were ecouraging the Guardians as they scattered about. Jack was trusted to check for the front of the lair, where the Boogeyman was most likely to be. The two conflicting emotions struck him deeply at the same time, and made his brain into mush. Should he be proud how much the Guardians trusted him or terrified of the thought of finding the Boogeyman?

Hours seemed to stretch on into days as he searched, and even when decades had passed before his very own eyes, there was not a single sign of the spirit of fear. Jack didn't know what to feel. Relief that maybe Pitch was up and walking somewhere? Fear that some animal or stray spirit had taken him before the Guardians? Sadness that maybe Pitch's body vanished?

He couldn't help but to notice details of the lair he neglected the last time he was here. He crouched down, and ran a hand over the thick layer of dust coating the ground. Beneath the dust, smooth grey stone stared back at him. How did this stone came to be here? Did Pitch make it or did he find it and called it his?

''Over here, North, Jack, Sandy!'' Jack suddenly heard Tooth's urgent voice call out, and he startled, getting up from his crouch. He leveled his staff at the distance, where patches of light pouring in through many secret openings allowed shadows to form.

Tooth's shifting and etheral shadow passed in the distance, and Jack, with his heart hammering in his chest, flew as fast as he could toward it. Did they find him? Was he dead? Was he attacking? Jack wished with all his might it was the last assumption. A hateful, vengeful Pitch he could handle, but not a dead one. A dead Pitch had no right to be in this world, where the spirits of fear roamed at every step, very much alive and hungry.

When Jack came to where Tooth hovered - no, she stood - in a stone doorway with no door, he froze. The Tooth Fairy said nothing, and stood like she was made of the very grey stone that this abandoned underground city was. Jack's staff almost dropped from his hands at the sight of the room.

There was a black substence spread all over the floor and walls, mottling the grey ground in the black color. Signs of a fight - ripped (black?) sheets were thrown all over the floor, and there were pieces of wood-like daggers every other meter or so. The walls also boasted a few paintings, which all had at least three long lashes cut slantwise, as if by some beast, and they hung by their rusty screws like dead. Dust also covered most of ther room, some parts with a heavy layer of it, other parts a thin one. Like someone had used those floor parts to do something and jumped over other parts. And the floor, a stony grey, was cracked in a few places.

North all but bumped into Jack, and were he not as tensed and motionless as Tooth, he would have toppled to the floor.

''Shostakovitch!'' North bellowed, looking around with wide blue eyes, ''Vhat' happened here?''

Tooth moved her face so that it was facing Jack and the rest. Her eyes held shock and a bit of fear to them. When she spoke, even Sandy frowned in worry. ''I think he was taken.''

* * *

They found nothing else in the lair. No signs of further fight nor anything that could indicate who or _what_ exactly grabbed the kicking and screaming Boogeyman out of that one room. Jack felt a shiver from the imagining. He had to thank North for taking up his part in investigating the bloody - it was in fact dry blood - room. Tooth said she found many scratches from the fight, and the rips in the paintings were specific enough to narrow down the possibilities of but a few dozen creatures in their world. North had, much to the painful clenching of Jack's guts, found two ripped nails on the floor. The Boogeyman must have scratched his nails raw against the ground as he was dragged away by whatever creature it had been.

Though Jack could recall Pitch scratching at the ground when his nightmares had dragged him, he also knew that he couldn't hurt himself much on ground and grass, especially when the nightmares had been moving so fast. The stone, however, was hard enough to rip.

According to Sandy, the dust was there for at least two years, so what happened probably happened a year after the Nightmare War. How Sandy knew, Jack didn't know, but he had a tough time already sorting through his emotions. Putting aside the unknown emotion in his chest, he had enough guilt, worry and fear left to go around. He knew they had to find Pitch.

He _had known_ until North spoke, and brought to life what was left of shock.

''If he's alive,'' North said, ''Then we don't need to replace him. But if he can't do his job, we still need to replace him. Thankfully in the latter case, we don't need him to do so.''

''North!'' An outraged cry broke out from Jack before he could stop it. Tooth and Sandy turned from the desk in North's office to look at him in surprise. North leaned against his palms on the desk, feet planted firmly on the ground - making Jack flinch a little when he remembered he was still to return the gauntlet - and raised an eyebrow.

''Jack, Pitch es not our business unless he's attacking us,'' North stated coldly.

''But, North-!''

''Jack, calm down,'' Tooth reassured, reaching out with her hands to their youngest member, ''If Pitch isn't dead, he's fine. He's older than us, remember?''

''B-but-'' Jack stutered in shock and North hushed him gently from afar, turning to the window at the back, where daylight shone through clearly.

''It's Pitch, Jack,'' he calmly said, and his shoulders slumped. ''He can take care of himself.''

''What if he can't!?'' Jack screeched, not believing his friends. Enemy or not, Boogeyman or saint, he couldn't believe how the Guardians would brush off the worry so carelessly. They _know_ him. Whether he was a friend or foe, you don't leave spirits you know behind.

''None of our business.'' The words made Jack cold, so very cold. He couldn't think clearly when he spoke. The words seemed so logical in his brain that was practically mush, that he didn't even think, he just reacted. Violently.

''You can't ignore him because he KILLED YOUR CARETAKER!''

And the silence swept across the room like wind. Except there was no wind, and the silence was something non-existent. It wasn't just silence - it was nothing. There was no background noise from elves and yeti, no sounds of breath. The faces around him, including North's who looked back at him, were frozen in shock. And suddenly Jack wished he couldn't remember his own name.

''Jack,'' Tooth whispered, and the accusation in her voice struck a chord in his heart. And the Guardian of Fun saw it then. In all their eyes.

They were not over it.

Not even Tooth, who told him he should leave his past behind, whose eyes now brimmed with unshed tears. Unknown to him, she could barely breathe because her heart contricted in places she thought were healed, but were not. They were just well-hidden, and now the words wrapped their hooks around the cover, and pushed it open, revealing the broken and the desolate.

Jack couldn't stay, not after what he said, nor after what North had said. He couldn't stand the hurt and accusing eyes that stared at him like he was the monster. Maybe he was. He wanted to save their enemy, after all. Maybe they no longer trusted him, thinking he would turn against them at any moment. Maybe they thought he was too inadequate to be a Guardian.

The Guardians must have cared enough not to kick him out of the room right then and there. But Jack didn't care.

And so he left.

* * *

He found himself at Burgess again.

He didn't know why, but he ended up by the closed lair entrance. He barely knew what he expected. For it to be open? For some spirit to come along and tell him what to do next? It was wishful thinking. No one was going to come and tell him what to do. What could he do? He was merely a child compared to the Guardians. An infant compared to Pitch.

The memory of the gauntlet kept flashing in his mind like it was demanding he took it out and look at it.

But his heart was heavy; he really shouldn't have said such a thing to the Guardians, to his friends. The man that raised them was basically their father. He wouldn't be surprised if they called him dad. But who was it?

It was night; it took him nearly all day to come to the woods. It was because he had taken time, slowly gliding on the wind, and looking around at the beautiful scenery of the ocean, which he took as not a shortcut but a longcut. He wanted to waste time, he wanted time to think. But that was for naught, because the entire time he did everything but think. He watched the scenery but saw nothing, his mind blank. He might have said a few words to the Wind when it ruffled his hair in question, and then the entire trip was spent in silence.

He had arrived to the the entrance, and had looked up to the blazing, full moon that seemed to glare at him. His guilt though, was probably the thing that turned everything he looked at into some accusing, disapproving thing. Even in his memories, instead of the Guardians' shocked faces, he saw hard disapproval and a scowl. Guilt was a strange thing.

Jack looked around at the barren field, and shuffled his feet beneath which sprouted fresh new grass. He kicked away the solid ground which was threatening to turn to ice.

And the gauntlet in his hoodie pocket was threatening to turn into a fire. Grunting, he took it out, the other hand in his hoodie pocket, and scowled at it.

His scowl fell away at the sight of it. It was...

Shining? Glowing? Radiating simple cold? Jack couldn't tell.

And then he yelped and dropped the gauntlet; it hit the ground unceremoniously. Jack stared, unaware that he was leveling his staff at it, and that sweat had broken out on his cold forehead. His eyes had widened considerably, just to fit in the entire image he had in front of him.

For long minutes, he was just gazing at the offending gauntlet, simply unable to move and react appropriately to the thing. Later he would blame it on being surprise, although at the moment he could swear he felt almost _relieved_.

The elegant, silver North Star _moved_.

It was spinning in place now, aimlessly, relentlessly, as if searching in all directions for something but not finding it. It was a part of the gauntlet, thin as paint, and yet, it was spinning basically inside the golden texture. Like a moving picture, a phantom, something enchanted.

Jack couldn't just abandon it, but he was a bit frightened. Nevertheless, his fear, as he had come to realize, never outrun his curiosity.

He took cautious steps toward the gauntlet, both parts frightened and excited.

It kept spinning, as he expected, though a part of him did expect it to stop. At first he didn't bend over to pick it up, still clutching and aiming his staff at the golden accessory.

Eventually though, his right hand let go of the staff and he reached down. His fingers grazed the rough, grainy texture, and he waited with a held breath. He startled a little in himself, not moving, as the northern star stopped in unision with him. Who stopped first was a question Jack couldn't answer.

But the gauntlet definitely moved first.

It was slow, still Jack saw it moving. It just barely increased in speed, moving almost clumsily. It screeched to a silent stop, then moved back a bit. Jack thought of it as a magnet. It was attracted to one side, then went to it, and basically changed its mind, going back the other way the tiniest bit. Before changing its mind again, and going back, this time stopping completely.

Jack looked to his right, where the North Star pointed its thin, longer end. But all he saw were woods.

He clasped his right hand over the gauntlet and lifted it. He held it in his palm, staring at the unmoving silver star. A thought came to his mind.

His lips quirked upward in an uneasy smile, albeit a tiny happiness gripped it by the edges.

Jack turned around, moving the gauntlet with him, and held it out on the other end. The North Star didn't move.

The Guardian of Fun sighed.

 _Useless_ , he thought. _But maybe..._

And so Jack, idle and currently with too much time on his hands, jumped into air. The Wind caught him and he directed himself to Jamie's house almost on a subconscious level. He thought, with a small fraction of hope, Jamie might know at least something about the gauntlet. Its origin perhaps, or from what it was built. He just hoped the kid wouldn't question him too much where he had got it. His guilt about practically stealing it still burned at the back of his mind, and the need to return it almost consumed him. Nevertheless, his fear of North's reaction kept the desire to return it at bay.

 _Not like North took it out that much or anything,_ he thought, trying to assure himself.

A thought sent him pitching forward and stumbling on the ground on his shaky feet. He grunted, clutching the gauntlet to his chest. _What if he wanted to see it now after what I said? What if he wanted to carress it, hold it for a few moments, just once, just one more time._

His treacherous thoughts turned on him. They bit at his conscious, unrelenting and cruel. It was like they wanted to shred what was left of his mind on purpose. It was his guilt, Jack knew, that would turn out to be hurting him. But not just the guilt of saying that awful sentence to the Guardians.

The seemingly never-ending guilt of _killing_ Pitch.

His hope, however, refused such a thought, standing up to the guilt.

He wasn't dead. Hurt, maybe, maimed in some way. But he wasn't dead.

He was _alive_.

To Jack it was all that mattered. To simply know Pitch was out there breathing air, although his lungs might be bruised, although it had been three years.

Jack straightened as much as he could. An idea of finding and saving Pitch had already been implanted in his mind, and like the beautiful seed it was, it grew and Jack knew it was going to bloom sooner rather than later.

Until then, Jack had to be strong. The Guardian of Fun looked down at the gauntlet he clutched to his chest. It was special, he knew. He looked up to the moon, who was still watching him intently. The spirit of winter might have even heard a chuckle, but just like the music was at the lair, it was probably his memories wanting to fill the unreasonable silence.

He loosened his grip at the gauntlet, and was about to move out, before his eyes accidentally skimmed over the northern star.

 _No way,_ he incredulously thought, his eyes wide. It had moved.

Jack certainly remembered the position he left it with. The star was pointing to his right when he put it horizontally. Now, it was pointing directly at him. His slightly shaking hands moved it right and left.

It didn't move again, but Jack had a wonderful conclusion.

He turned around and pointed the North Star to him, so that the direction where it had been pointed was now in a completely opposite direction.

And it moved, right back to where it pointed.

Jack kept turning around, and the northern star either kept spinning back to the specific direction it pointed, or didn't budge when he moved it - that was, it seemed to hover on the gauntlet, as if tired of Jack's constant turning, and no matter how much Jack moved the gauntlet, this way and that, the northern star pointed to the same direction while the gauntlet around it was moved.

The winter sprite wasted no more time.

He bolted in the direction it pointed, heart hammering in his chest from the sheer excitment that gripped him like the noticed crushing weight of gravity. Constant and unrelenting, Jamie forgotten and out of his mind somewhere far.

He flew past trees, the world blurring around him as he went faster, and faster, and faster. All thoughts of Jamie and the Guardians and Pitch were forgotten. All that now mattered was following the single, pointed edge of the star which guided his body, and with his body his own thoughts. They all now revolved about the exciting discovery of the star that led him to something wonderfully unknown.

It didn't take him long, although to him it seemed centuries passed by the time he reached the ocean. He flew down onto the dock. Did he not catch sight of the unending expanse of dark blue, he would have flown straight forward and rushed past the ocean to Europe.

But he had to wait, he had to just take a moment to _think_.

 _Breathe,_ he thought to himself, _Just breathe. You're alright. This star thing doesn't have to point to anything special._ Calm down.

He looked around. He was in some sort of an abandoned dock, and the small buildings in the distance let him know it was some small town without any flashing lights or noise. It was still a kind of night, but when he looked back to the horizon, he could see the barest signs of a sunrise.

He was going to fly into the sunrise, and go the opposite direction of the sun; wherever the star pointed him to.

 _It was going to be a grand adventure,_ Jack concluded, but closed his eyes.

He was going to explore what the star was showing him mostly because he had nothing else to do. His knees would give out if he confronted the Guardians. And he didn't want to help them replace Pitch. If he was out there, Jack would find him, and save him. Even he had to fight a thousand monsters, and Pitch himself. He would return the Boogeyman to his proper place, and he would make him _see_ what he was doing was wrong, and he would change the man people called the monster under the bed.

Jack knew Pitch could be so much better than that. He could stop scaring children, and join the Guardian's side, the good side. Everyone could change so why would Pitch be taken that chance. The winter spirit could see it -

Pitch Black, dressed differently and less looking hateful and _helping_ children instead of scaring and hurting them. And around him, spirits stood with smiling and laughing faces. He didn't know many spirits, so he had to add a few spirits he hated to the picture. But none the less, all would like the Boogeyman. Pitch could be a friend. He could be the one that was loved, cared for, protected, and most of all -

 _Family_.

Jack smiled brightly at the idea, and opened his eyes. They shone with something he was in need of but wasn't given in a long time now - hope.

He would not abandon Pitch. He would find him and wouldn't replace him, but fix him. He might be a broken toy, but that toy was valuable. If not just to Jack, some spirits out there must at least wonder about the Boogeyman's whereabouts. He was going to set out into a search, right after he saw where this star that gave him such hope led to. Maybe... Just _maybe_ it led to an answer of sorts.

With those thoughts, he launched himself into air and flew.

He didn't notice then, too caught up in his sudden rush of hope and excitement, that the wind whispered warnings as he flew.


	4. Mother Nature

**And things get complicated :D**

Pairing: N/A (Gen)  
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Adventure  
Rating: K+ (depressing themes, no smut/direct cursing)  
Word Count: 3,832

Chapter 4 - Mother Nature

''Perhaps there could be no joy on this planet without an equal weight of pain to balance it out on some unknown scale.''

* * *

''But that party will be remembered for centuries to come!'' the brown-haired girl screamed, violet eyes narrowed and constantly on the move in front of the dark, taller man. She stopped, stomped her foot and looked to him with anger. And then her face expression softened, and she pleaded, ''Dad I _really_ want to go.''

The plea in her gaze did nothing to deter him, and he shook his head with a snort. He looked at her down his nose, eyes narrowed, the authority of his figure threatening. ''I said no. That's my final answer.''

She loudly grunted, of course she did, and rushed to her room with speed abnormal for any child her age. When he heard the doors of her room shut, when the echoes of it stopped echoing throughout the elegant cavern, he sighed.

The words he had overheard echo in his head.

 _If that bird freak comes to this party, we'll make sure everyone gets a_ good _look at her. We must make sure she never comes to another party for dark spirits again. Oh, she won't forget it, and neither will any of us._

* * *

He was flying half-way through France when it happened.

The wind gave out like an off switch.

Jack gasped and stumbled toward the ground at breakneck speed, the darkness around him not catching him but letting him fall through. He tried calling to the wind a dozen times as he seemed to fall in a terrible frefall of whoosing wind, not stopping and not slowing down. He was too high up to get out of it without a scratch. Coming to realize this, his frantic and terrifed glances to the ground below that was fast approaching became all the more frequent. He flailed his hands around and at some point he even dropped his staff, and scrambled madly for it, barely catching it while he was completely out of control and holding the gauntlet tightly in his other hand. He didn't want to fall, and he almost blamed destiny for being cruel.

He was getting close with the North Star too - it started moving the tiniest bit when he moved it right and left, as if signifying the thing they were seeking was near and that going right or left made a huge difference.

Now he fell like a sinking rock in the ocean, aimlessly and without a known fate, the night mocking him by looking like the dark depths of a sea in which he was sinking.

The ground below him, an isolated land of sorts, came into a view clear enough for Jack to be able to pinpoint where he was supposed to hit the ground; a patch of black soil, where he could see a few children playing, chasing each other and digging dirt, despite that it was dark and the sun had long since set. It would hurt, and he might even black out, but if he just held on tightly, his small weight could help him get less injured. But a fall was a fall. He just hoped he would either not fall on the children or if he were to come into contact with one of them, for the first time, for the children not to believe in him.

He squeezed his eyes shut and clutched the gauntlet and his staff to his chest. He tried to breathe normally.

 _It will be over soon_ , he thought, though the loud noise of cutting through air drowned out most of his inner voice, _You can't die._

Were those thoughts same as Pitch's before he was gone?

He couldn't have been more than a meter away from the ground, tumbling and twisting like in a mockery of a circus entertainer, when he came to a abrupt and swift stop. For a long time, he neither moved nor spoke, just stared at the ground that was all but in front of his nose, visible although it was dark, breathing ragged enough to not count as breathing at all. He held his hands with the staff and gauntlet to his chest, unmoving as time itself seemed to have stopped as well.

He face-planted when his stomach landed first and forced his head to knock on the soil. Coughing up a bit of dirt that turned up in his mouth, he quickly turned over on his side and lifted his head, up and searching for the reason of what had happened as he wheezed in surprise.

But no answer came, except the few laughs of children, still playing mere feet from him. One of them had found a small, glowing bug and was showing it off as the children both leaned forward and away from the scary-looking creature. A few of them squeaked when the bug-holding child started chasing them, laughing at the sudden change of game.

Jack looked in all directions, but beside the field of fertile soil and a large, house of victorian style, there was nothing else.

Putting the strange anomaly aside, he sat himself on his knees and just barely glanced to the two precious items in his hands, before getting up completely. He looked up.

The sky was painted black with the moon and stars obscured by the clouds, erasing Jack's theory that it was the Moon who saved him. The field in which he was in was surrounded by a small, wooden fence, over which the children must have jumped in order to play. The house stood at the far right, and all beyond the field and the fence were trees too high to climb by bare hands.

Jack took a step forward, then looked back at the children. A boy and two girls, looking similar enough for Jack to guess they were siblings. As they dropped the glowing bug to the floor, they continued to play, making Jack also guess that they couldn't see him.

 _But why are the children playing in the middle of the night?_ Jack thought, perplexed. He raised an eyebrow at them and looked around. But there were no grownups. What sane parent would let their child play outside at such a late hour?

Jack's thoughts however let up, when he realized another thing.

 _The wind,_ Jack thought and glanced about the night sky. There wasn't even a slight breeze to ruffle his hair, not a ghostly whisper against his cold skin, nor a sound that so much as resembles wind.

There were no air currents.

''What?'' Jack asked, more to himself because there was no one around to listen to him.

''It's because of the change in the world,'' a deep, female voice answered him, and Jack startled so badly that he dropped the gauntlet and almost his staff. But he held the wooden stick out before him and pointed it in all directions, eyes wide, until he came to a stop. The top of his weapon touched a stomach clad in dark green.

His confusion-filled eyes traveled upward, over the fabric with intricate swirls of light green, a neck wrapped all around, and stopped at a long, yet lovely face. At first he could neither think anything nor react. And then the woman, her emerald green eyes - from what Jack could tell in the darkness - staring at him intently, lifted an elegant eyebrow.

A sense of another horrible deja vu overpowered him, and he nearly lost his grip on his staff, were it not for the woman shaking her head disapprovingly to steel his nerves.

''Still oblivious, I see,'' she murmured, her face surprisingly neutral as she turned around. Her har, which Jack barely saw was the color of ebony, billowed around her head. For a second there, he thought the wind had returned, but feeling no wind, he concluded with a slight awe that the woman was making her own, invisible wind.

Jack shivered, the sudden feeling of fear twitching in his stomach. This woman was trouble.

''Jack Frost,'' the same deep, regal voice of hers addressed him, and Jack lowered his staff completely. Something grew in his stomach as he gazed at the woman's retreating back. She stopped, and turned around to face him, as if she had been merely putting distance between them before talking to him. Jack doubted it was because of caution; the woman felt too superior.

''You are needed in the South Pole,'' she said, her voice as emotionless as her actions. But a tight-lipped, narrowed-eyed expression on her face told him otherwise. ''You are to be there and help your fellow spirits to stop the minor catastrophe that is coming.''

''Why?'' Jack asked, then stopped himself from saying anything more. He sounded rude.

The woman merely relaxed her face, and said, ''Because it is your duty to obey me, for as long as you're on _my_ planet.''

Jack gaped. _On_ her _planet? Who is she?_

''My duty is to obey MiM,'' Jack countered, slamming the butt of his staff to the ground, but producing no snow. He stared at the woman with narrowed eyes, his resolve firm.

The green-eyed spirit smiled. ''Perhaps... And _his_ duty is to listen to me.''

Jack lifted an eyebrow, relaxing his hand on his staff then clenching it again. This woman knew Man in Moon?

But before the winter spirit spoke again, the woman cut him off swiftly. ''Be there.''

A silent shiver ran down his spine, though he tried his best not to show it. He knew, he simply _knew_ he wasn't supposed to disobey her. Whoever this person was, whatever kind of spirit she was, she was dangerous and she was to be feared. She was to be obeyed.

He didn't even reply, before she waved a hand in air and turned around. A question caught in his throat, but before he could let it out, the ground shifted beneath him, and he loudly yelped in surprise. The ground reached up around him as he sunk, and he tried to claw his way back, but it was shifting, bits and pieces falling off the earthly bodies that surrounded him.

No sooner did he lose his staff than he was being shoved down (and up?) a hole that appeared beneath (above?) him.

He stood, flabbergasted and not capable of thought, staring ahead of him at... the Globe?

The lights shone down at him, the darkness of nothing comforting his loud, nonsense thoughts. The ground that was on him, and beneath him, shifted again, and Jack jumped back from it, nearly falling on his rear in surprise as the wooden floor creaked and returned back to its original shape.

Just a small, unimportant pebble lay on the floor; it was all that was left from Jack's transportation.

Needless to say, the Guardian of Fun was in great awe at the way he was delivered. A powerful woman, indeed.

But he was at the North Pole now.

As soon as he realized that, thundering footsteps sounded all around him. He twisted and turned, clutching his staff like a life line, his knuckles white. But the foosteps came from way over the other side of the Globe Room, and Jack frantically ran to the window in hopes of escaping before anyone could perceive him.

The memory of wind giving away resurfaced like a bitter taste on his tongue, and he screeched to a stop in front of it. The footsteps neared dangerously close, and he could distinguish voices. His little miracle turned out in the form of a table, far to the right. He lunged for it, almost dropping his staff.

He crawled beneath the table, grateful that the decorations on it masked half the hidden space, and pressed himself against the wall side of the table. He clasped a hand over his mouth, from which came his ragged breathing, and listened to the voices approaching.

''-is dead. Nature said so herself-''

''We don't know for certain,'' North's voice interrupted the female voice. At first Jack thought it was Tooth, but the longer he listened to the voice, the more he noticed it differed greatly in contrast.

''She wouldn't lie. She has no reason to,'' the childish voice said, and Jack could finally see a familiar pair of feet with neat dance shoes. White and looking like they were made for ballet, adorning small, petite feet. That of a small child.

''Then we cannot risk it,'' North grunted and stopped. Jack's breathing stopped for a moment too, and might even his heart when North bent over, and picked the small pebble in his meaty hands. He whispered, ''If Wind is dead, we have to act fast to replace the Boogeyman.''

''I already searched India... Nothing.''

''Keep looking, and thank you for your help,'' North said, and as soon as he did, Jack saw the small feet jump, vanishing for a moment out of his sight. They never came down, and Jack barely quirked an eyebrow at it because he was too preoccupied with the new information.

 _Wind... dead?_

This time, unknown tears brimmed behind his eyes, and he shut them closed, hand on his mouth tightening.

 _Not you... oh, Wind. What am I supposed to do now?_

He didn't know the spirit that brought him joy and company in his long days of loneliness. Heck, he didn't even know there was a spirit behind the invisible element. He just thought it was controlled by itself, an element that was semi-sentient.

His heart twisted when he tried to think of a face to give to the supposedly dead spirit. Must everything he knows die while he just helplessly watches? While he hides like a child from grownups?

North lingered on the spot, spinning a few times in a circle, and then he yelled, making Jack startle, ''Phil! Get me my reindeer, and summon the Guardians! We have much work to do.'' As there was a bustle of motion in the distance, North murmured, just barely audible, ''We're running out of time.''

He left not long after. And when the frost sprite was certain the Workshop was back to the usual noise with nothing peculiar, he crawled out from under the table. The Globe Room was empty, and he shuffled out, and made his way in front of the Globe.

The lights flickered, but none of them went out, which was good. But worrying at the same time.

''I'll find Pitch,'' he said, and he was surprised to hear his voice was scratchy, like he had been crying. He cleared his throat and looked at the lights more confidently, ''Don't worry. I'll find him and make it all alright.''

He turned on his heel and stopped.

If ideas were represented by light bulbs, he would have one burning brightly above his head right then.

 _Warda_ , his mind whispered.

* * *

Getting to the reindeer was simple. Getting on her was a lot harder.

She buckled beneath him, and snorted, loudly. He tried to shush her, afraid that her eagerness would give him away to nearby yeti. But no one came in, and Jack was sure North already left. They didn't take Warda with them, and Jack guessed it was because she was new and yet to be trained. She was wild and untamed. Not like the other reindeer North boasted were any less untamed, but they at least had practice. The albino reindeer that was Warda was unpredictable.

Jack looked uneasily at her and she snorted again, but stilled beneath him. Sitting awkwardly and without a saddle on her back, he patted her head. She shook it a little, acknowledging his touch.

''There, there girl,'' Jack soothed, smiling, ''You and I have places to go.''

She snorted, a lot louder than the last few times, and Jack flinched and patted her harder. ''Easy. We won't go anywhere dangerous...''

She shook her head with a low growl and looked sideways at him, and Jack swore he almost saw scepticism in her one glassy, black eye.

''Anywhere _too_ dangerous,'' he amended, and she seemed satisfied enough, stilling.

Satisfied himself, he hummed gratefully and reached for the lock in front of him and Warda. His hand hovered over the metal, whose lock he discreetly unlocked by snatching the key from a yeti while she was busy wrapping up a doll house, and he stared at the reindeer. She didn't move, her loud breathing the only sound in the abandoned barn.

''Okay,'' he said, and slowly, very slowly, lifted the metal handle.

Still nothing from the animal.

He smiled, nudging open the fence, which creaked lowly and opened all the way without his help. Warda didn't even so much as blink.

Jack chuckled and readjusted his grip on the reindeer. ''Okay, time to goo-

-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!''

He couldn't stop his mouth from opening up in a scream of surprise as Warda _lurched_ upward and right through the barn. He didn't stop gasping and producing animal-like noises until the albino straightened somewhat, no longer in a reverse swan-dive. But she kicked and bucked like there was no tomorrow.

He closed his mouth, clutching his staff with all his worth and pressing himself into her. His stomach twisted into knots and he regretted getting onto her. If he fell, and with Warda's consant bickering and unnecessarily excited kicking of hooves he just might, he would get pretty injured. And that was the last thing on his today's to-do-list.

But after feeling like he might rip out her fur with his iron-grip, she galloped and gave one last snort before smoothing out her ride.

They flew over the endless expanse of ice, gliding on the wind, and Jack couldn't help but to breathe out in utter relief. He even straightened, though his legs wrapped around the animal too tightly to be comfortable.

He stared ahead, and the sun greeted him. It washed over the sky, coloring it in all shades of orange and yellow. A streak of red passed overhead, and warm air came out of nowhere. Like they were suddenly submerged in warm water, while they were in middle of the Northern hemisphere. Then the cold air returned again.

Warda kicked her legs with more control, and the ride was pleasant, relaxing. Jack released his grip on the reindeer, and grasped his staff in his left hand. He straightened out completely now, but not without unease and apprehension.

He spread his arms out and greeted the air, and the colors ahead almost seemed to dance.

''Wooooohooooo!'' he yelled and laughed out loud. Warda merely snorted, as if unamused by his childish antics. ''Warda, this is wonderful!''

Soon the sea came into view, and Jack was surprised by how fast they reached it. He readjusted his grip on his new companion, flattening out on her furry body again and whispered, ''We have to get to France first. I dropped the gauntlet accidentally. I hope that woman didn't take it...

''Why am I telling you this, you don't even know what a country is...''

He ruffled his hair in frustration. It's not crazy talking to an animal, but expecting it to understand you is another matter he'll have to discuss with himself later. He looked down at her. ''Guess I'll just have to stir you. Shouldn't be too bad.''

When she whined and he flinched a little, his grip tightening, he sighed. _Not_ too _bad_ , he repeated in his head.

* * *

The gauntlet was nowhere to be seen.

Not even landing Warda, the untamed beast of a reindeer, brought him such fear and surprise. He searched the entire field twice, throughly. But the silver and gold accessory was simply not there anymore. Like it was swept by a non-existent wind and carried off to who-knows-where.

 _Did the woman take it?_ Jack thought, but scolded himself. _She had no reason to. She looked powerful enough to not amuse herself with trinkets._

Then again, she could be teasing him. Giving him a 'nudge' to come to the South Pole and 'help out' as she put it. Help out with what, he didn't know. But she sounded serious, and although he decided a long ago that he was going to disobey her, with a great grimace and fear, he felt uneasy and queer to do so. He knew he wasn't supposed to, but he had greater things planned in his mind. Surely the woman would understand... right?

He all but jumped when he felt a wet touch to his neck, but it was only Warda, neighing like a horse in worry. He sighed, and patted her neck. ''I don't know what to do, Warda... It's just you and me. And I don't think I know anymore than you do at this moment.''

Her white ears flattened against her head then. Before Jack noticed, she raised one, and turned it from one side to another, like she was following some invisible signals.

The Guardian of Fun looked at her with a concerned frown. ''What is it, Warda?''

She didn't answer of course, but she whined and bowed her head down, shaking it aggressively and snorting. Jack moved away from her with hands raised in defense, his staff glowing brightly for a second before the light tuned down. He payed no mind to it, already used to feeling the eerie glow beneath his fingertips.

Then a noise of breaking ice, and Jack veered to it like a machine, raising his staff with a mechanical habit.

His fingers felt numb on it, however, when he and Warda were faced by a boy, mere meters away, casually perched on the wooden fence. The sun, obscured by clouds, allowed Jack to take in all the details.

White hair highlighted with light blue, same length as Jack's, and baby blue eyes stared back at him. No older than eighteen, with clothes ancient-looking and mostly white and light blue, his pale face caught the winter sprite's attention. If he didn't know any better, he would have guessed it was his long lost brother.

A wicked grin overcomes the youthful face, and the boy lifts his hand, hitherto hidden behind his raised leg (the other one hangs limply down the fence).

''Looking for this?''

The golden gauntlet shimmers in the sun.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I need help with finding a suitable name for the winter spirit, you are free to comment your suggestions :)**


	5. Decisions

**Thank you bluefrosty27 and Anjion for the name suggestion, it's awesome ^_^**

Pairing: N/A (Gen)  
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Adventure  
Rating: K+ (depressing themes, no smut/direct cursing)  
Word Count: 2,297

Chapter 5 - Decisions

''Choices made, whether bad or good, follow you forever and affect everyone in their path one way or another...''

* * *

''Give it back to me,'' Jack all but growled out, hands clenching into fists at his side. Years ago, he would have extended an arm, palms up, for the boy to put his treasure in it. But the scene in Antarctica had bred distrust and the disbelief so he tended to often think that things wouldn't work out the way he expected them to. He was ready to fight the other frost boy tooth and nail.

The obviously winter spirit jumped from the fence and nonchalantly leaned back, turning the gauntlet this way and that. ''What's this anyway?''

''Give it back,'' Jack said, the growl in his voice more prominent. The boy opposite him cocked his head and smiled.

''And what if I don't?''

Jack's already narrowed eyes narrowed further at the implication. His knuckles had turned white from the repeating thought of 'what if I lose it, what will I tell North, what will they say, how will they ever see me the same way again-'

''Oh, you will,'' he whispered, just loud enough for the boy to hear him. The winter spirit with white and light blue hair chuckled, looking back to the gauntlet in his hand, eyes twinkling with curiosity.

''Now you got my attention, which, I needn't say, is hard to come by. What's so special about the little glove anyway? Does it have some kind of- Uff!''

He leaped over the fence to hide from the sudden burst of snow in his direction. The dark blue ball of snow power ripped a piece of trunk from a tree behind him, piercing the air which he had been occupying just a moment ago. He childishly peeked over the wooden boards at Jack, then back at the tree, and whistled.

''That's one mighty throw.''

''And next time won't be a warning one. Give it back!'' Jack yelled at him, legs tensing. Either for the run he just _knew_ would happen or to dodge the winter spirit's next move, he did not know.

Either way, the eerily similar boy's lips pulled back into a cruel smile, and his eyes twinkled with mischief - a twisted, not-Jack sort of mischief.

''You want it?'' But Jack didn't need to reply, because his former guess was coming true. ''Come and get it.''

Faster than he could blink, the boy leaped back to the trees, and vanished not a second later into the bare foliage. His delirious laugh didn't even stop echoing as Jack barely managed to hook his hand around Warda and mount her, while she was storming past him, not stopping. He gripped her thick antlers. The albino deer snorted aggressively and Jack was rather happy he didn't have to chase the thief alone.

They followed the boy's soft imprints in the ground, which if Jack had not been a winter spirit himself, they would have missed. The shoes the thief was wearing had a specific shape, like elven shoes, and could not be mistaken for any other foot imprint out there.

They followed the footprints until the shore of France, where they vanished. Jack was not naive enough to think he went into the water, though a part of his mind nagged him, telling him that the cold spirit might have a different means of transport. They searched the line shore; rose up in the air to check their surroundings; explored the nearby caves frantically. Yet not a single sign from the winter boy was seen.

''No,'' Jack whispered as he rode Warda across the sand shore the fourth time, the sun still hiding behind the clouds. He stopped her, the reindeer panting softly. Subconsciously, he patted her between the antlers while he looked around. The sea was retreating, at least, almost scarily so, though Jack took no notice. He turned his head around in a different direction, and repeated, ''No.''

Beginnings of panic had yet to appear, when thunder roiled ahead. Beneath his soothing hand, Warda was deathly still, and Jack was still looking around. She whined lowly in her throat, uncharacteristically motionless. Not a single familiar snort even as Jack gripped her antler with one hand.

He was still looking around, his lips a straight line and his eyes narrowed half in fear and half in anger.

''Damn it,'' he whispered. Warda whined again, but all he did was pat her on the back harder. ''Where could the idiot be?'' he asked himself, twisting around in a desperate search of any sign.

Finally, the reindeer growled and bucked beneath his firm hand.

''Woah, woah,'' Jack tried, clutching her furry neck so he didn't fall right off. ''Warda! Calm _down_!''

To his surprise, she did. But she didn't stop snorting and shaking her head, merely stomped her hooves in place inconsolably. Jack didn't understand his companion's behavior, up until he looked around them.

The sea must have retreated at least a good twenty feet.

 _This isn't normal_ , he thought, before the sound of wind reached him.

His first instinct was to rejoice. It was to gasp and then shout out in complete joy - maybe Wind had been merely sick, maybe Wind was better now and North and that girl were wrong, wrong, wrong. Terribly wrong. And so were the Guardians, about Pitch of course. Everyone makes mistakes.

However, the thoughts submerged in darkness from whence they came from with the ominous shadow in the distance.

 _No_ , his mind whispered. His eyes widened, and for a moment he had a feeling he would be sick. _That woman..._ A name rose into his mind. He heard it a thousand times, but only now, seeing the sea retreated so easily, the sky filled with thunderheads and threatening lightning that shook him to his bone marrow.

Right next to her, a woman he had never seen but definitely _knew,_ was Baelana.

And Mother Nature's fury was present to the very tips of her clenched fists. Her lips were twisted in a horrible sneer.

Frozen half in shock and half in the fear which was quickly catching up, poor Jack could feel his heart constrict tighter, like a snake made of evil. The very evil which spilled its poison into his heart, so that the veins transported it throughout his entire body, and straight to his mind. Unable to properly think, he watched the furious nature spirit raise her hands.

In the split second that it took for her to raise the sea and hurl it at his small form, Baelana camly mouthed the word he tentatively repeated in his head. The word echoed in the ice that froze him and his thoughts. It was the key to grasp Warda and flee the scene like the devil himself was at his heels.

 _Run._

The sound of the sea approaching was the second worst sound he had ever heard. It sounded like thunder and earthquakes and everything deep and scary and unknown crashing at the same time in the same powerful crevice. He rushed Warda on as fast as he could, her silver hooves stirring the sand mercilessly, but the shadow of the oncoming sea spread on him and ahead of him. It was too big to escape. The water would hit them in matter of seconds.

The albino reindeer jumped, her hooves making a small echo amongst the bone-deep rumbling around them. She flew into air and Jack risked a glance back. More water than he'd ever seen, more fear than he'd ever felt loomed above them, and he knew he wasn't going to make it. The water would catch him, and drown him, and make him _remember_ its crushing weight and the helpless feeling of dying.

''Buddy, your reindeer ain't fast enough.'' Jack looked forward again, his body too frozen in fear to react to the sudden appearance of the other winter boy. The spirit gazed at him in boredom, perched on Warda's neck as if he weighed no more than a snowflake.

He held in his hand a bright light, seemingly shapeless. It casted strange shadows over Jack's face.

Then a greater shadow as his vision turned black.

* * *

''What you did to cause Nature's fury, I will never know,'' the winter boy laughs out.

Gasping, coughing up water, Jack shook on all fours. He didn't look up at his unfazed companion, whose chatter set his teeth on edge. They almost died, and yet the other winter spirit acted like it was a game. The young Guardian heard Warda in the distance, snorting and whining beneath her breath from stress and the ocean that had engulfed them for the second they didn't make it. They almost didn't make it. But they did.

Thanks to _him_.

''Especially Baelana's. I know she isn't the nicest person, but man, the redhead must have something in for you for her to lie to Nature like that.''

''You!'' Jack screeched, knees buckling beneath him as he tried to stand.

''Kalte,'' the winter spirit corrected, just as Jack crashed back on his bum, his legs too much in shock to properly stand, ''Kalte Blue. Just call me Blue, will you?''

''You dummy,'' Jack hissed out, hands digging into the cold earth beneath them.

''Wow,'' Blue said, turning the stolen gauntlet in his hand to inspect it even more than he already did. ''Big words.''

Jack covered his face with his hands. The grass beneath him was both comforting and nauseating. Did Mother Nature know where he was now? It was her planet. _She should know where every spirit is, right?_

''But seriously, buddy,'' Blue said in a more serious tone. Jack looked up to the ice blue eyes. ''What did you do to piss off Nature?''

''I didn't do anything,'' Jack whispered. He tired up getting, slower this time, and stood, shaking just slightly. He snatched the gauntlet from Blue's hands. ''What are you doing here anyway? I thought Mother Nature said we should gather at the pole to 'help out'.''

''And yet you're here instead of there too,'' Blue inquired and crossed his arms over his chest. His blue robe billowed behind him, though thankfully this time there was no wind.

Jack narrowed his eyes, squeezing the gauntlet. ''What do you want?''

Blue blinked. He shrugged. ''I just want to have fun. This Global Warming thing is too depressing for me, you know.''

Jack shook his head. He turned to Warda, who was eating thin grass in silence a few dozen feet away. He whistled for her, but she just grunted and turned her behind to him.

''Rude,'' Blue said with a chuckle.

''Just as you,'' Jack commented and put the gauntlet into his hoodie. He connected eyes with the frost boy. ''You're not following me, are you?''

''Hell yeah, I am,'' Blue said.

''No,'' Jack countered, ''Hell no, you aren't. I'm onto something. Something very important, so you go ahead and gather your popsicles and leave me and Warda to do our stuff.''

''This _stuff_ ''-Blue put large air quotes around the word 'stuff', then chuckled and grinned-''sounds interesting. There aren't many interesting things these days. I get the feeling it's the Great Depression setting in once more.''

''You-'' Jack started, and stopped himself the very second. Subconsciously mimicking North, he puts his fingers up to his temples and pinches the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes.

 _Pitch is somewhere out there,_ he thinks, fingers returning to temples to soothe his aching head, _Nature is obviously out for you, though you have no idea what for- A few hours ago you didn't even know who Baelana was, for heaven's sake... You might need his help... You might need his knowledge of the world._

He cracked open one of his eyes. Blue stood, looking at him with a childish grin and eyes that blinked at him with a sickeningly sweet innocence.

He shut his eyes once more. _Why? Why him? Why me? Why!?_

''So?'' Blue chirped out.

''... Fine,'' Jack grunted out. He retreated instantly when Kalte jumped and did a backflip midair. Losing his balance, Jack fell back on his bum again. ''Owww!'' he exclaimed, louder than he intended.

He was met with warm hands that pulled him up in one quick motion. Kissing both his cheeks, Kalte let him drop back down for the thousandth time. Jack growled, swinging his foot at the winter sprite's own two feet. _See how he likes it on the floor._

But Blue merely danced away, doing a superman pose. He asks, in a deeper voice, ''What is our mission, mister...?''

''Jack,'' Jack said grudgingly. ''Jack Frost.'' As the young Guardian brushed off his pants, he missed the fleeting look that passed over Kalte's face.

If he didn't, he might have reconsidered taking him as his companion. But by the time he looks up, Blue is all smiles.

''Where to, chief?''

Jack looked him up and down, before taking out the gauntlet from the pocket of his hoodie. He stared at it a bit longer than necessary. Kalte leaned in to look amusedly at the white North Star amid the gold of the gauntlet.

It pointed to their right, at Warda.

''We're going to Warda?''

''Germany,'' Jack whispered.

* * *

 **Oh, Jack, you might regret your decision :/**


End file.
